


New year bets

by Fleur_de_Violette



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson Being an Idiot, Dick Grayson does not know how to ask for help, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Protective Barbara Gordon, Protective Jason Todd, Siblings making fun of each other, Sickfic, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleur_de_Violette/pseuds/Fleur_de_Violette
Summary: Dick doesn’t see what all of this is about. It’s just a case, keeping him occupied. Jason should stop his weird half teasing half worrying thing.Also, in retrospect, they probably shouldn’t bet on each other’s health.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 16
Kudos: 142





	New year bets

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, this was supposed to be a new year fic but then I got self-conscious about it, and then I decided it was written anyway so might as well publish it. As a result, it’s a little late. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

_December 28, 05:45_

Dick yawns as he makes his way into his apartment. He’s working a drug case that takes all of Nightwing’s energy. At least he has a name for the head of the scheme now, Giles Neivier. He heard the name a few times before tonight. The man is wealthy, and he’s coming from Gotham. He decided to build an empire in the neighbor city, probably because he thinks it’s less protected than Gotham. Well. Dick fully intends to prove him wrong. 

He takes a towel from his bathroom and starts drying his hair, wondering if he has the energy for a full shower. Blüdhaven couldn’t decide whether it should be snowing or raining tonight and settled for a little of both, half frozen water falling heavily for all his patrol. He opens his comm in a well known habit.

“All-clear, Oracle, I’m at home: safe and sound.” 

The voice that answers isn’t the one he’s expecting. “That’s the time you come back home, young man?” 

Dick stops the process of removing his uniform. “Jason? You’re Oracle now?” 

There is a sarcastic laugh at the end of the line. “She’s sleeping. Sorry if I’m disappointing.” 

There is no hurt behind the words, so Dick rolls with it. “Well, I was expecting an awesome redhead.” 

“You’ve got an awesome redhead.” 

Dick laughs. It feels good, being able to chat like this with Jason. His oldest little brother is more at ease with everyone, now. He’s even officially a part of the family again. Bruce had planned to make an official announcement of his return on the new year gala. 

“I don’t think dyed hair counts, Jay. Like it or not, you’ve been dyeing it long enough to be on the black hair team now. Why are you still doing it anyway? I get when you were Robin, but…”

Jason clears his throat. “Why are you coming back so late anyway? Do you need backup?” 

Is that worry? From Jason Todd? They did come a long way. 

“What, Gotham is so boring you need another patrol route? I’m okay, I can handle it. And you’re up too, for all I know.” 

He’s finished changing and checks his civilian phone. He’s got a voicemail from Sylvia, his coworker at the gym. Weird.

“Hey, I’m fully planning on sleeping all morning,” says Jason in the background. 

“What makes you think I’m not planning on sleeping all morning?” replies Dick, pressing play. He doesn’t really care if Jason hears what Sylvia has to say. The woman’s voice fills the room. 

“Hi Dick, I’m sorry this is such a short notice, but do you think you could take over my morning classes? I’ve fallen ill all of sudden and I’m not sure I’ll be able to do them so, um… If you could. Thank you, I’ll own you one.” 

“Well, that. For starters,” comments Jason as Dick writes a text apologizing for the late reply, reassuring her that he can take over the classes and asking if she needs anything. She did sound unwell, and he knows she’s living alone and doesn’t have many friends in town. 

Dick sigh. “Did you need anything, Jason? Otherwise, I think I’m gonna go to sleep.” 

There is a snort at the end of the line. “Ah, yes. Do not waste those glorious two hours. Seriously, sometimes the fact that you’re still alive and functioning amazes me. And you’re the first to scold Bruce and Tim. Hypocrite much?” 

Dick smiles. “That’s because I’m amazing like that.” 

“Well, I’ll be the first to laugh when you come back to the manor exhausted and sick because you don’t know how to follow your own advice and take care of yourself.”

Dick huffs. “I won’t.”

“Well, we’ll see that. Good night.” 

“Good…” the comm cuts before he finishes. “…night.” 

Dick sighs, sets an alarm for the morning, and falls in his bed, fast asleep. Jason is right. Better not waste those two hours. 

_December 28, 16:51_

Dick finds himself in front of Sylvia’s door with groceries in his hands. The classes were long, the kids from the morning mostly whining about how their usual teacher wasn’t there. His head hurts, but he promised his colleague he would help her if needed, and she asked for him to pick up her groceries, thanking him a hundred times. 

The woman opens the door, and he can immediately see why she couldn’t teach. Sylvia isn’t the type to easily ask for help, so he figured she was really feeling unwell. She’s swaying where she stands, eyes and nose red. She tells him to leave the groceries at the door as she goes to get money and, yeah. No way in hell.

Dick hadn’t been raised, neither by his parents nor by Bruce, to abandon someone in need. 

“I have nothing to do this evening” except track a new drug gang, but she doesn’t need to know that “I can stay if you want. Make you soup and keep you company?”

He observes her body language for any sign of disagreement, ready to back off if he notices one, but sees nothing but gratitude. 

“Would you do that? I…” She sneezes loudly and looks around her. “This place is a mess.” 

He takes her by the shoulders and guides her toward what he assumes is the bedroom. The apartment isn’t clean by a long shot, but Dick had seen way worse. Hell, he lived in way worse when he moved out.

“Don’t worry about that. Just sleep and I’ll take care of it.” 

He let her rest as he puts the groceries where he assumes they belong, cleans the place, and makes soup. When it comes to cooking, he’s no Alfred, but he’s no Bruce either, so he assumes what he makes should be at least edible. He brings it to her, wincing when he hears a bad cough upon entering the room. 

“Have you seen a doctor?” 

She thanks him for the soup and shakes her head. 

“Do you want me to call one for you?” 

She turns toward him. “Do you think I need to see one?” 

Dick grimaces. He’s not Bruce, and he doesn’t want to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, but he doesn’t want her getting worse on his watch. Sue him, she’s younger than him, and he’s a big brother. Some habits die hard. 

“I think it would be best, yeah. But I won’t force you to.” 

She sneezes, then nods. “If it is possible, I would like you to call, then. Thank you.” 

He smiles. He’s glad she’s less difficult than Damian. Finding a doctor isn’t hard; by the time he finished the call, Sylvia had finished her soup. 

“You’ve got an appointment tomorrow morning. I can drive you there if you want,” he offers without thinking twice about it.

She nods and thanks him again. She coughs into her fist. “You know you can go home if you want. I’m not really good company and I feel bad I made you take care of me and all.” 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he corrects. Still, he can see a hint when he hears one, so he tells her there is leftover soup in the fridge, promises he will be there the day after and goes home. 

_December 28, 21:05_

The issue with the Neivier case is that he can’t get his hands on solid evidence. _Nightwing saw him_ isn’t cutting it in the court, and neither is a recording from a suspicious source like a vigilante. He knows Neivier is on the head of the new faction in town. Everyone knows that. The cops know that, even if they are too full of his dirty money to do anything about it. But this isn’t strong enough evidence to make sure the man isn’t harming anyone anymore. He launders the drug money like a pro and Dick had seen no computer. With the number of people involved, there has to be a trace of something somewhere.

His bet would be on Neivier’s personal phone first. The problem is how to get his hands on it. Nightwing has enough contacts around the city to know the position of the man, but can’t get close to him. No, for that, he needs to call an old friend. 

_December 29, 01:05_

Nighwing had found out where Giles Neivier is spending his night, and John Loyd is planning to make an appearance in the nightclub. Dick doesn’t like to brag (who is he kidding, he loves to brag), but he’s pretty good with makeup. It can hide his identity almost as well as a mask. That and his ability to fake a lot of accents really accurately. He first picked up the skill for fun, back when he was a kid, in the circus, but it’s really useful now that he’s an adult who needs a lot of personas. 

John Loyd looks nothing like Dick Grayson, and that’s just right for him. Because John can easily get into the nightclub and plays on his good looks and charisma to get close to Neivier, at least close enough to steal his phone. 

_December 29, 02:32_

This man is so full of himself. Giles Neivier, he finds out, has an opinion on everything and everyone. If the lights of the nightclub weren’t hurting Dick’s head, Neivier’s voice would do it anyway. But John Loyd smiles and coos and enjoys the place he took one hour to get next to the one who calls himself the most powerful man of Blüdhaven. 

John Loyd laughs stupidly, and Dick Grayson waits for the moment he can steal the phone from the man’s pocket without being suspicious. His pickpocketing skills are actually something he learned from Bruce, because you’ll never know when you’ll need something like that. Picking up the skill was easy. He knew some basics in prestidigitation from the circus, and this is pretty similar. 

Abracadabra your phone is gone. Abracadabra you’re in prison. 

Dick needs to sleep. 

But he can’t do that now. Now, he picks up the phone, chimes in a “Gotta go, call me?” and leaves the club. Uurg, he hates this. He knows he’s pretty. He knows that simplifies a lot of things in this job and this technique is the easiest to use. That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

_December 29, 03:12_

“Oracle? I got a phone for you…” 

Thankfully, this time, it’s Barbara that answers. “Ooh, is it late Christmas, Boy-Wonder?” 

He laughs. “I wish. Could you check it, make sure there isn’t anything fishy in it?” 

“All right, just plug it into your computer and let me do my magic. You know the drill.” 

Dick executes the command. 

“Good, I’m running a program on it, you’ll have the result in a few hours. Are you calling it a night?” 

Dick looks toward the window. “I think I’m gonna do one of my patrol routes still. It’s been too long, and I have a drug gang recruiting on my streets.” 

“Ok,” she says in a way that lets him know that it’s not, in fact, ok at all, but she doesn’t want to fight with him. “Try not to get home too late, Jason told me you got home pretty late last night.”

That’s the closest she will go to a reproach, and he knows it comes from a place of concern. He also knows he can’t let Neivier walk free in his town any longer. So, he deviates from the uncomfortable conversation, jumping on the next thing. 

“Yeah, about that, since when are you letting him manage your comms?” 

“Since some idiot comes back from patrol in the early morning and I need sleep, too. What? Afraid you won’t be my favorite Wayne kid anymore?” 

Dick laughs. “Come on. Everyone knows your favorite Wayne kid is Cassandra.” 

He can hear the smile in her voice. “That’s fair.” There is a ping on her side of the line. “Gotta go. Take care, don’t forget to give me the all-clear tonight.”

_December 29, 03:50_

Nightwing had seen a young man steal a book earlier. He didn’t really give it more than a thought then. Now, looking at the same man getting ambushed by two larger guys, he wishes he had. 

He descends quickly from where he was perched and smiles at the aggressors. “Hi guys! Got any issue? Do you want to talk about it with me?”

One of the men is waving a hand at him. “Damn right we’ve got an issue! This one here is a coward and a traitor!” 

The victim makes a frightened sound and Dick wonders what’s going on. But he doesn’t have time to think about it too much because the second man gets a gun from out from behind his back. 

“Screw this, the boss will be happy if we get him one dead vigilante on top of the quitter.” 

Dick agrees on one point. Screw this. He twists his body and disarm the man, then assign him a hit on the chin, efficiently putting him out. The second one gets the same treatment, his escrima sticks doing making quick work of him. 

The man who was attacked is already going away, and Dick calls after him, “Hey. Care to tell me what they wanted with you?” 

The man looks at him with disdain. “I’m not talking to cops.” 

He’s very young, Dick realizes. Younger than Sylvia. Probably the same age as Tim. “Good, I’m not a cop. Look, I might be able to help you, but not if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

The man, a boy, really, stays silent. Dick sighs. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s _your_ name?” the other reply, which, fair. And then, very low, “Peter.” 

Dick smiles in a way he wishes is reassuring. “Alright, Peter. I’m not gonna hurt you. From what I saw, you’re in danger. Can you tell me what’s going on?” 

Peter looks at the ground. “You know there’s a new gang in town?” 

Dick nods, because he does know. Very well. 

“Well, I… look I really needed the money.” 

Dick nods. “You’re not in trouble.” To be honest, the kid might be depending on what he says next. 

“And at the beginning it was just simple jobs. Move something from one place to another. Go tag threats at one door. Don’t ask too many questions. And then… then they asked me to start selling drugs. At first, I agreed but um…” 

He’s still looking at the ground. If possible, his voice is even lower, “… but at some point, they asked me to sell to minors and… I got a little brother. I just couldn’t. I chickened out.” 

Dick raises his hands to put them on Peter’s shoulders, but brings them down again when he sees the kid flinch. “You did the right thing. I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to make sure their boss ends up in prison. In the meantime…” He gives him a paper with the phone number he uses as Nightwing. “…if you need me, call me.” 

Peter takes the paper and keeps looking at the ground. “Are you gonna arrest me?” 

Dick smiles. “Are you still part of the gang?” 

Peter shakes his head. 

“Then why would I do that?” 

The boy looks at him for the first time. “I stole a book,” he confesses.

Dick shrugs. “I’m not a cop.” 

Peter seems to think for a second, and then he makes a decision. “I never told you this, but there’s a huge meeting tomorrow night at the abandoned building, the one that was once a bank, next to the harbor. I don’t know the exact time.” 

Dick feels emotion wash over him. He knows the building. He also knows how much giving him this information could cost Peter. “That’s… that’s really helpful. Thank you.” 

“Remember, you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Dick nods. “I already forgot who told me.” As the man walks away, he adds: “Peter? I can’t promise anything, but why don’t you upload your resume on the Wayne enterprise career website? I heard they have some pretty interesting legal job offers.” 

The man nods and runs away, leaving Dick with the two unconscious bodies. He wants nothing more than to leave them there and call it a night, especially since tomorrow night is probably gonna be long, but it’s below freezing, and he can’t in good conscience leave two unconscious men on the streets. Calling the police won’t do either because he has no guarantee about how long they will take, or if they will come at all. 

He drags them inside an abandoned building, where they will at least be protected from the elements, and places an anonymous call to the police. 

_December 29, 05:37_

“Oracle? I’m good and home.” 

Again, instead of Barbara, it’s Jason who answers. 

“Woah, you’ve got ten minutes on yesterday,” he says sarcastically, “What progress.” 

Dick sighs. “She’s pissed, isn’t she?” 

“Gee, you think? She still asked me to wake her up if you were dead, if that reassures you.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Not really.” 

“Are you gonna sleep in the morning this time? No classes?” 

The question is asked lightly, but there is real concern behind it. Dick doesn’t have it in him to lie. 

“I need to drive my coworker to the doctor tomorrow morning. Or, this morning. Whatever.” 

Jason lets out a whistle. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Dick sighs. He’s aware of his self-destroying tendencies, but he knows this isn’t that. This is just… a case, and a friend in need. “I’m not gonna die from not sleeping enough. Or from catching a cold from Sylvia, which, I won’t. It’s not like we’re cuddling or anything.”

“Oh no,” replies Jason, “But Babs might kill you for not taking care of yourself if you keep this up.” 

Dick laughs. “That angry, huh?”

Jason hums. “That, and if I start college, I won’t be able to handle the comms so late anymore, so she’ll be the one to deal with your bullshit.” 

Dick stops right in his tracks. That is some big news. “You’re starting college? That’s amazing, Jason.” 

His little brother clears his throat. “This is at the project status. Not an official thing yet. And don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

Dick takes a deep breath. He understands the demand as it is. Don’t tell Bruce. “Alright, but that is still a great news. Am I the first one to know?” 

Jason sighs. “Babs knows. Roy too.” 

Dick smiles. “Oh, so I’m the first non-redhead to know.” 

He’s joking but he feels his heart warming. The fact that Jason trusted him means a lot given their history. 

“Oh, I’m counting as a redhead now?” 

Dick goes to answer, but he cuts himself off with a yawn. He hears Jason chuckle. “Go to sleep, dick.” 

The last word definitely isn’t his name, but it’s still said with too much kindness to be an actual insult. Once again, the line is closed before he can say anything.

_December 29, 12:09_

Dick’s shoulders pop when he stretches his arms above his head. The doctor has confirmed that Sylvia wasn’t in any danger, and the sickness was indeed a bad cold that should go away with rest. This is a good thing. A slightly less good thing would be that between his three and a half hours of sleep and taking care of his coworker, he didn’t have the time to look at the file Oracle sent him about Neivier’s phone. He also needs to get rid of the phone, because Dick Grayson being seen with that could very much become an issue.

He quickly writes his thanks to his childhood friend and looks at the file. It’s disappointing, to say the least. There is nothing in the phone that could directly relate the man to the new gang. Dick sighs. At least he has another lead, from an unexpected source. He’ll take the phone and dispose of it on the other side of the city before looking into the blueprints of the abandoned building Peter told him about. He stretches again. He has a long day ahead of him. 

_December 29, 21:46_

Despite the impromptu nap he took in front of his computer, which did nothing for his neck, he managed to get enough info on the building to find a place where he could settle in and listen. The old vent on the roof presents several advantages: it gives him visual access to the whole room, it’s sturdy enough that he doesn’t risk falling and blowing his cover, and it’s elevated, definitely a plus for him. 

On the downside, he can’t move much once inside. He’s pretty sure Bruce wouldn’t have been able to fit in the vent. But it doesn’t matter because, as established, he’s not Bruce, and Bruce would probably have another way to put Neivier behind bars. Bruce would probably have Neivier behind bars by now. 

Anyway, moving on. 

Another uncomfortable thing is the constant taping of the rain on his hiding place. The metal is acting as an amplifier for the heavy drops falling from the sky, making them louder than they have any right to be. The rain also adds the issue of water infiltrating the small gaps between the metal plates; if the vent had been insulated at some point, like with an actual roof above it, it clearly wasn’t any more. No matter how flexible he is, he can’t dodge the droplets that sometimes are small rivers going down his hiding place. The shape of the vent regularly creates drafts, chilling him but removing the water for maybe a few seconds. Great. 

And of course, there is the boredom. He doesn’t know when the men are going to be there, and he hopes they’re going to be there at all. He’s pretty sure Peter didn’t give him faulty info, but the meeting place might have changed. Still, waiting here is his best shot. It doesn’t mean it isn’t boring as hell. 

After a while, he gets his Nightwing phone out. The thing is silent, so no risks to be heard, and this way he can chat with his siblings. If Bruce heard of that habit, he would probably have a fit on unnecessary texting on patrol, but that sounded like a Bruce problem. 

“Hello!” he simply taps in the conversation app. Red Hood is almost immediately writing. Doesn’t Jason have stuff to do? 

“Aren’t you on patrol?” comes the reply. Dick smiles. 

“Aren’t you? I’m on a boring stake out.” 

“I’m on a rooftop, waiting for some action. Gotham is quiet this time of the year.” 

Dick sighs. Well. Good for Gotham. 

The Red Robin icon marks reads on all the messages and starts typing. 

“@Hood, you know you can say you’re available for backup, which is a lot more straightforward.”

Then another message from Red Robin: “@Wing, seriously, if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Dick feels a fond smile on his face. Tim’s concern and offer makes him realize how much the kid had grown, while staying himself. Tim is more confident now than he was when he started being Robin, but his will to help stayed untamed.

He doesn’t really need help, though. Not at this point in the case. If he’s lucky, this stake out should give him all the info he needs. 

“Thanks for the offer.” He replies. “I’m good for now, just bored and cold.”

“Cold?” asks Jason as if he was waiting for it. Well, Dick is cramped in a vent, wet and cold, so he takes the chance to complain. 

“This place is dump and badly insulated. I’ve got rain and wind on me. Seriously. People should think about the ones who will be stuck in abandoned vents when they’re designing their buildings,” he jokes. 

Hood is writing for a long time. 

“So, let me recap. You’re not sleeping. You’re hanging out with sick people. You spend your nights in cold and damp vents. Do you not want to see my official return to life with the high society of Gotham?” 

Dick frowns. “Why wouldn’t I see your official return to life?”

“There is no way you won’t be sick by New Year,” explains Red Robin. Hood adds a heavy plus sign emoji to the message. 

Dick rolls his eyes. “I won’t be sick. I’ve been there before, I can handle it.” 

“You wouldn’t let me do half the things you’re doing. Neither of you would,” writes Red Robin.

“That’s ‘cause you’re missing an organ,” writes Dick and at the same time he sees Hood’s message, saying: “Yeah, because you don’t have a fucking spleen.”

Jason’s concern towards Tim makes Dick smile. He’s a big brother. He knows that. He hadn’t been there enough for Jason before his death, and he will never forgive himself for that. That’s why he tried to make it up with Tim, in his own way. He’s glad Jason is learning to be a big brother too, both with their official and unofficial siblings. (Because he’s not gonna lie, he saw the way Jason acts with Duke. There is more than a Narrow/Crime Alley solidarity here. There is real brotherhood.) 

Hood is typing again. “But yeah, I’m ready to bet ten dollars Wing is sick on the thirty-first.”

Dick sighs. “You’re on,” he writes. 

“Ah, yes,” writes Red Robin. “That very sane family thing when we’re betting on each other’s health.”

“So, who are you with, Wing or me?” asks Jason. 

“You, obviously,” comes the answer. 

Dick snorts. “Well, you’re both wrong. My immune system is great, and I trust it.” 

Red Robin types rapidly. “No matter how great it is, it still won’t hold on if you keep this up.” 

The unhidden worry sobers him up instantly. “I’m ok, kiddo. It’s just a case,” he writes. 

He doesn’t get a reply for a while, then Hood types. “@Red, we’ve got movement in the financial district. Meet you there.” 

The chatroom is empty after that. Dick misses the fun chatting. It was efficiently distracting him from his situation. After a long time, the chatroom lights up with a new message, from Robin this time. 

“I didn’t read the conversation, but if there are bets, I’m with Nightwing.” 

Dick smiles. 

_December 30, 01:54_

Maybe, Dick thinks as he listens to the conversation below him, criminals should take anger management classes. Everyone has been yelling for the past twenty minutes. The good thing is, as they’re yelling, they are actually giving some pretty interesting information. Like how they want to move to Gotham next. Or how every single thing linking Neivier to the gang is printed in paper and conserved in a small case, just out of Dick’s reach. He can see it. But there is no way he can steal it. Fighting his way to get it also seems impossible. Nightwing is good, but there are at least thirty armed gangsters down there. Even he can’t fight his way through them. He regrets having declined the offer for help earlier. 

But what’s done is done, and he has to focus on how he can get his hands on the case another time. He gets a small invisible tracking device, once again thanking Tim and Wayne tech for their gadgets. In a smooth movement, he drops it on the case. No one notices anything. Perfect. He thinks distractedly that he could be the next Catwoman. Minus the relationship with Batman, of course. Satisfied he now has access to the location of the case at any time, he listens to men and women yelling at each other once again, hoping he will get some more information. Besides stuff on these people’s personal lives that he could go without knowing, there isn’t much more to learn from the night. 

_December 30, 03:45_

Dick is jaded when he gets home and opens his comm. “Hi, Jason.” 

There is a feminine laugh at the end of the line. “Nope. Try again.” 

“Babs!” He smiles. “I managed to get home while you were still there.” 

She laughs, “Yup. Congratulation on your normal schedule, Boy-Wonder. Well, normal for a Bat.” 

He laughs back. “Does that mean you’re not angry anymore?” 

“Depends. Are you going to sleep?” There is something playful in her voice. He loves the light conversation they can have, he loves hearing her smile. It’s been too long since he’s been in Gotham for anything other than a case or a Wayne obligation. He’ll make sure to spend some time there and some time with his childhood friend once he fixes his gang issue. 

“I am, actually. I’ll take a shower, cause it’s raining like crazy and I’m drenched, and then, I’m going to sleep. I have classes tomorrow morning.” Sylvia doesn’t, which is good because he feels too tired to do a double shift again. “Are you?” 

She hums. “Just waiting for Black Bat to get home.” 

His heart skips a beat. “She isn’t home yet?” 

Babs sighs, but doesn’t call him out on his hypocrisy. “Relax, she’s on her way back. Let me worry about Cass, okay? It’s my job. Right now, yours is to take a shower and go to sleep.” 

He sighs in relief. “Alright.” And then, because he really wants to spend some time with her, he adds. “See you soon.”

“See you soon,” she replies.

There is a fondness in her voice. It keeps him warm until morning. 

_December 30, 12:15_

When he opens his phone at the end of his classes, he sees he has a text from Jason on a jointed conversation with Tim. “Are you sick yet?” 

Dick laughs. He had practically forgotten the conversation from the night before. “Nope,” he answers with a V-sign emoji. 

“That is so unfair,” complains Tim. 

“What? Do you guys want me to be sick?” 

That gets him two simultaneous messages. One from Tim, saying: “No, of course not,” and one from Jason saying: “Yes.” 

He shakes his head. Focuses on his afternoon. Dick Grayson needs to check on Sylvia, Nightwing needs to check on Peter. And then he has a case full of evidence to find, preferably without making Neivier run to the other side of the world in the process. 

_December 31, 03:38_

It took a bit of hard work. But eventually, he managed to confuse enough the men so that two cases full of cash, one full of drugs, and two he made himself, one full of flour, one full of advertisement flyers he had lying around, as well the case of evidence, are circulating around the gangsters. The men have orders not to open the cases. They don’t know what’s in it. They won’t report to Neivier if they lose one as the man rules by fear. Eventually, he manages to isolate the man carrying the right case. 

The criminal is too afraid to make coherent decisions, or maybe he doesn’t know the geography of Blüdhaven that much, because he ends up in a dead end, cornered. On one side, he’s got a wall that is way too high to be climbed without material. On the other, Blüdhaven canal, which is indeed frozen, but with ice so thin no one in their right mind would think of crossing it. In front of him is Nightwing. 

“Come on, just give me the case,” the vigilante pleads. “We all know how this is going to end. You’re not paid enough to fight me.” 

The man splits on the ground. “Are _you_ paid enough to fight _me_?” he asks.

Dick smiles insolently, dropping in a fighting stance. “I’m not paid at all, actually. But I’ll still kick your ass.” 

The man snorts. “That’s right, you’re doing everything the big Bat of Gotham asks you, like you’re his little puppy. Well, you want this?” He shakes the case, smiling in a way Dick doesn’t like at all. “Go fetch.” 

Dick watches in horror as the case flies toward the canal. For a second, he thinks the ice is going to stop its run, but the too thin material breaks under the pressure and the case starts to sink. 

The man takes advantage of the fact that Dick’s brain zeros in on the case to run away. Dick barely notices. He needs the documents inside that case. He needs it to protect Peter. He needs it to protect Blüdhaven. He needs it to protect Gotham. He needs it, or Bruce would be disappointed. Again. 

The decision is surprisingly easy to make.

_December 31, 04:16_

Dick is frozen by the time he reaches his apartment. Literally. Small ice stalagmites are forming in his hairs, and he can hear his costume crack every time he moves. He knows he’s at least mildly hypothermic. But, he has the case. He needs to dry the files. It takes him several tries to open the case, but he finally manages to do it. Everything is in there. It’s still readable, but it won’t stay that way for long if the documents stay piled up and wet. He slowly starts to set them everywhere he can so they can dry during the night before remembering the all-clear he’s supposed to give every time he comes home after patrol. He opens his comm. 

“Barbara,” he greets, doing his best to smile and hoping it hides the chatter of his teeth. 

“No,” says Jason’s voice, “She’s already asleep, you’re too late. Again.” 

“Oh, hi.” He runs a hand through his hair, removing some of the ice. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m… are you doing something else? You seem distracted.” 

Dick nods before remembering his interlocutor can’t see him. “I’m drying evidence.” 

He’s aware he probably should hide that, but he’s tiered and cold, and his brain isn’t working as fast as it used to. 

“Why are you drying evidence?” 

“Because I need it to incriminate a suspect.” Duh. 

“No, I mean, why is the evidence wet?” 

“Oh. Because it was in the canal.” 

Will his mouth shut up? Jason seems to feel something isn’t right here. 

“Dick. How did you get the evidence from the canal?” 

_I dived in_ , replies his brain, and his mouth should definitely lie. 

“I dived in.”

Fuck you, mouth. 

He hears a sharp intake of breath at the end of the line. “I’m coming to you.” 

Dick finishes disposing the pieces of paper and stands up, putting his hands toward the comm. “No, it’s ok. By the time you arrive, I’ll be warm anyway. I’m gonna take a shower or something and I’ll be fine.”

Jason grunts and Dick manages to shut his mouth long enough not to tell him he sounds like Bruce. Good. 

“This didn’t count as an all-clear,” informs his brother. “Give me another when you’re warm.” 

Dick accepts the compromise and goes shower. As expected, he feels way better once he’s warmed up. He opens the comm once again. “Hi. All better.” 

There is an exasperated noise at the end of the line. “Seriously, I can’t believe you. If you want to give me ten bucks so bad, you can just do it you know.” 

Dick laughs, “I’m okay. I’m just a little tiered. See you tomorrow at the gala.”

Jason grumbles something and cuts the call. Dick puts an alarm to give the evidence to Amy, the only cop he relatively trusts, in the morning, and falls in his bed while the precious papers are drying. 

_December 31, 10:24_

He just come back from his meeting with Amy, leaving her with the evidence and his trust to end this as soon as possible, when he gets a text from Jason. “How are you doing, sick boy?” 

He smiles. “I’m not sick.” 

“No way in hell,” writes Tim at the same time Jason orders, “Take your temperature.”

Dick snorts. “I think I would know if I had a fever, Jason.” 

“Do it anyway?” Asks Tim and Dick decides to humor his brothers, so he goes to take a thermometer out of his medkit and dutifully takes his temperature. 

As expected, the thing beeps and announces he doesn’t have a fever. He takes a picture of the small screen, reading proudly 98.5, and sends it to his brothers. 

“I can’t believe it,” states Tim. “What is your immune system made of?” 

“Not good enough,” writes Jason. “I want a picture of you with the thermometer in your mouth.” 

Dick snorts. “No way. I’m not giving you teasing material for free. See you this afternoon.”

He fully intends to sleep the few hours he has left before heading to the manor to help with the preparation of the gala. 

_December 31, 21:21_

Bruce’s speech had been, as usual, very touching and completely fake. Not fake because Dick doesn’t believe the man was glad to have Jason back in the family, but fake because Jason had been back for years and the first feelings of surprise and gratefulness toward the world were in the past by now. 

Still, Dick had politely applauded and made his way through boring conversation the whole beginning of the evening. Jason was finally starting to extract his way out of the mass of curious guests as he made his way toward him. His brother elbows him in the ribs. 

“Seriously, how are you looking so good? I will accept the non-sick thing but how does your face look like this, you’re not sleeping.” 

Dick smiles. “I’m awesome like that,” he jokes, before admitting, “Makeup. Lots of makeup.” If he hadn’t used it, he would have looked like he was the one who came back to life. Like, yesterday. 

Jason snorts but doesn’t have time to say anything because Elizabeth Ewing is coming toward them, all smiley. She starts talking to Dick how it had been so long since they saw each other, like they were old friends. 

Like she hadn’t told her sister that he was an ungrateful brat who didn’t realize his luck and should have been left in the circus that one time he asked Bruce if they could leave the gala a little sooner than usual. Like her behavior hadn’t made a U-turn when it became clear he was a Wayne, and he was going to stay. 

But Dick is tired. Too tired to be angry. So, he engages in pointless conversation with her, not bothering to listen beside the few key words he needs to keep the conversation coherent. 

His senses zeros in on her perfume. She put on way too much of it, he can smell it from where he stands. It’s nothing like the odor he associates with gala-Cass, his little sister owning one bottle of fancy perfume she only uses for these opportunities, usually smelling like coconut shampoo and Alfred’s laundry detergent. 

The perfume Elizabeth is using must be new, because it’s a smell he doesn’t know, and it must be popular, because now he realizes this smell is floating arond the room, several guests wearing it. 

Nightwing walked into toxic gases before, there is no way the perfume can be any worse than that. But it’s still uncomfortable, the smell clinging inside his nose, his throat, is eyes. It happened before, when he was a kid. He spent an entire gala clinging to Bruce, eyes puffy and nose running, when he was perfectly fine before and after. An allergy to a component in some new and popular perfume, they found out, had been the cause. 

It was rare, and kinda funny considering he didn’t have any other allergies, and would probably have lived his life without even knowing about it had he stayed at the circus. 

He sneezes into his arm. 

“Oh, my,” Elizabeth says, trying her best to fake concern. “Are you sick?” 

Dick is totally done with people asking him that. He also doesn’t have the energy to go into the perfume allergy now. 

“It’s just a mild cold, I probably haven’t been sleeping as much as I should have,” he half-lies with a smile. She goes away quickly after that, though whether it’s because she has someone else to talk to or because she doesn’t want to be around a sick commoner is anyone’s guess.

Jason is looking at him with a big smile on his face. “Are you sick?” he asks, way happier than anyone asking that question has any right to be.

Dick shakes his head. “Allergic to her perfume.” When it gets him a skeptic glance he adds: “It’s true. Ask Bruce if you don’t believe me.” 

His brother looks in the direction their father is, surrounded by people. “Yeeah, how about I debunk your shit after the gala. There are still some too little cheese rolls things. Wanna come and get some?” 

With that, he’s gone. Dick shakes his head and follows. 

_December 31, 23:34_

Dick shivers and holds his suit jacket tighter around himself as he walks in the garden. He was right about the perfume being used by several guests, and soon, with the movement in the room and the guests putting more perfume on themselves as the night wore on, the smell was everywhere and there wasn’t a place he wasn’t uncomfortable in. 

He decided to walk outside for a bit, to breathe some fresh air and hopefully clear his sinuses. It doesn’t work very well, and he hadn’t taken into account how cold the garden would be. And that’s coming from a guy who ended up in a frozen canal the night before. 

He sneezes, which bothers him. He’s been outside for ten good minutes now, surely the allergies should have passed. 

“Why don’t you come inside, sick boy?” 

He startles. He hadn’t noticed Jason sneaking up on him. 

“It’s allergies,” he corrects, but he’s feeling less and less sure about this fact. He takes a step toward his brother, and, to both their horror, stumbles. 

Jason steadies him easily, and his hand jumps to Dick’s forehead. Dick lets him. 

“Yeah, I don’t think allergies are supposed to give you a fever,” Jason says, kinder than anything Dick heard on that night. 

“I don’t have a fever,” protests Dick, unsure. His head had been spinning for maybe an hour or so, but he put that on account of the tiredness and lack of proper breathing. 

“ _I think I would know if I had a fever, Jason,_ ” mocks his brother, before tugging his arm. “Come on. Upstairs.” 

Thankfully, the manor is so big they can go upstairs using backdoors and small stairs, without running into the guests. 

When they get in his room, Jason lets go of his arm to go into the bathroom, and Dick immediately removes his jacket. The room feels like an oven.

Jason comes back with the medkit and wordlessly hands him a thermometer. Dick dutifully sits on the bed and puts the instrument in his mouth, pouting. 

Jason smiles and snaps a picture of him with his phone. 

“’huck you,” Dick mutters around the thermometer, before the thing beeps and he removes it just in time to turn his head and sneeze twice. He shivers. The room feels like a freezer.

Ok, maybe he _does_ have a fever. 

He stays sitting on the bed, arms around himself in an effort to conserve heat, sniffing as his brother looks at the thermometer, frowns, washes it, and puts it back in the kit. After a while, Jason turns toward him and sighs.

“You’re so high maintenance,” he says before going into the drawer to get a shirt and sweatpants that he throws at Dick. He points at the bathroom. “Go shower and change.”

Dick obeys, noticing only when he removes it that his shirt is covered in sweat. He feels less gross after a shower, but neither the shivering nor the dizziness have lessened. 

Jason is still here when he enters the room, sitting at his desk with a book in his hand. A small table has been placed in front of his bed, with a glass of water, fever reducers, a mug of warm lemon infusion, and a box of tissues.

He sneezes and blows his nose loudly before thanking his brother.

“You owe me ten bucks,” informs Jason. “To Tim, too.” 

Dick rolls a blanket on himself, thinking of what to say. At that exact moment, loud cheers come from downstairs. He looks at his alarm clock. Sure enough, it’s midnight. 

“The bet said I’ll be sick by the thirty-first. It’s the first.” 

Jason flicks his ear. “You were sick before a minute ago. I want my ten bucks.” 

He goes back to sit on the desk. “Happy new year, dick.”

Once again, it’s not his name, but it’s not an insult either. 

_January 1, 00:37_

“You’re preventing me from going to my own ‘come back to life’ party.” 

Dick looks up from where he was contemplating his half-finished infusion. Now that he accepted it, he really does feel awful. He’s cold, his head hurts, and breathing makes him feel uncomfortable. 

“I’m not in any danger, you don’t have to stay here. You can go back downstairs if you want.” 

“Oh, hell no. I’m not spending one second more than I need to with those rich assholes.” 

Dick lets himself fall on the bed, the cover above his head so he’s in a full cocoon. “Then why are you even complaining?”

Jason doesn’t have time to answer because someone is at the door. 

“Jay? Dick? Why are you…” 

Jason shoos the intruder (Tim, from the voice) off. 

“Shh. This is a contaminated area. You stay at the door.” 

Dick wants to laugh, but a sneeze makes its way down his throat the second he inhales. He reaches blindly for the tissues on the table and takes one to blow his nose before throwing it in the trash can.

Tim has the audacity to laugh. “I see justice finally caught up with him.” 

Dick gets his head out of the cover. “I was expecting more compassion from you,” he says, voice congested. 

Tim snorts. “After you bragged about your immune system? No, I’m gonna enjoy this, I think.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Jason chimes in. “That was kinda fast, no? You were fine all afternoon and just… crashed.” 

Dick rubs his eyes. “Uh, I don’t know. Adrenaline, maybe. I just finished a case, plus the gala…” 

His brothers seem to accept the answer, which is good because he doesn’t have much more to offer. 

“Alright,” Tim says from the door. “I’m gonna let Bruce know you two will be upstairs for the rest of the night. Do you need anything?” 

Jason puts his head back on the chair. “Are there any cheese rolls left?”

Tim sighs, “No. There are still shrimps, though.” 

Jason makes a thumbs-up. “Shrimps are good, thanks.” 

_January 1, 01:02_

Dick doesn’t feel like he can do much more than watch Jason eat. His brother is apparently making as much noise as possible, chewing loudly. 

Well, Dick can make noise too. He isn’t doing much but he makes sure to get every cough and sneeze as loud as he can. 

They’re in this weird game of who can be the most annoying when Jason asks, “Shouldn’t you sleep?” 

Dick shrugs from where he’s lying. “Too uncomfortable.”

Jason nods and takes a shrimp. “Should I get Alfred?” 

Dick closes his eyes. Coughs in the pillow. “No, it’s fine. He has plenty of stuff to do.”

Jason makes a face but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he points a shellfish toward him. “Shrimp?” 

Dick grimaces but doesn’t have time to decline the offer before the window opens, letting the cold wind in the room and having him whining and retreating to the protection of the blankets. 

“Holy shit,” says Steph’s voice, and one glance informs him she’s in full Batgirl costume. “You’re here. I was expecting you all to be downstairs.” 

“Well, I was,” explains Jason, “but someone decided to be dramatic.” 

Dick sneezes loudly, as to prove his point. Steph winces in sympathy, and, well, at least someone in this family has sympathy. 

She then goes over to his closet and gets out clothes that definitely aren’t his. 

“Do you have clothes in my closet?” Dick asks, voice low. 

Steph nods. “I have clothes everywhere in the manor. If you don’t mind, I’m taking a shower.”

And then, as if it’s the most natural thing, she goes to his bathroom and closes the door. Dick doesn’t have the energy to think about what just happened. 

After the shower had been running for a short while, Jason states, “You look like shit.” 

Dick laughs. “Well, thank you.”

Jason makes a vague movement with his arm. “No, I mean, your makeup. It’s going away, you look even more shitty than you should.” 

Dick groans. He didn’t take the time to remove his makeup when he showered and he sure as hell isn’t getting up now. 

The shower ends and Jason yells toward the bathroom, “Hey, Blondie. Could you get some makeup remover from there?” 

Stephanie must be familiar with where the things are in his bathroom because not one second later she’s out, having changed in casual clothes, with a bottle of makeup remover, some wipes and nail polish Dick didn’t even know he had. But then again, he didn’t know he had Steph’s clothes in his closet either.

She puts it next to him on the bed and takes a few shrimps from the tray next to Jason, shoving them in her mouth. The man protests and then, with more gentleness than Dick expects from him, sits next to the bed and starts wiping Dick’s face. 

The wipes are soft and cold, and Dick finds himself relaxing. He doesn’t say anything when Steph takes his hand from under the covers and starts applying nail polish. 

He has the feeling Jason keeps his smooth movement long after the makeup is gone. 

_January 1, 04:14_

He apparently fell asleep, because when he wakes up, Steph is gone, and Bruce is in his room. 

“I mean,” Jason’s voice says, half laughing, “I’m pretty sure the bath in Blüdhaven canal didn’t help.” 

Bruce makes a strangled noise of disapproval. Uh-oh. Dick is in trouble. “Did he… why?”

“To get some evidence apparently. I checked him after, don’t look at me like that.” 

Ah. That’s right. The evidence for Neivier. Dick had a drug gang in his town. 

He sits up abruptly, forgetting he wanted to pretend to still be asleep. His head spins at the movement but he doesn’t care. 

“The evidence… did Amy…” 

His voice barely comes out of his throat and he ends up coughing his lungs out. Bruce’s hand steady him once the fit is over.

“You’ll worry about that later.” His voice is authoritative and doesn’t leave any room for argument. Dick knows he’s gonna argue anyway. 

“I need to…” 

Bruce raises his voice. “Right now, you’ve got two options. You either go back to sleep here, or I carry you to my room and you sleep there.” 

Jason snorts, “I can babysit him. I’ve got a book to read anyway.” 

Bruce looks at the book. His face scunches in confusion, like when he’s working on a case. “Jason, why are you reading an analysis of the father figure in classical literature?” 

Jason takes a cucumber stick from the raw food tray that apparently replaced the shrimp one and says, as if it’s obvious, “Well, for college.” 

Bruce stays stuck for a second before sighing, “Alright. I just came back from a gala. I’m too tired to deal with this. We’ll talk about this in the morning, but we will talk about this.” 

He stops, takes a deep breath. “Jason. I’m proud of you.” 

It’s Jason’s turn to stay stuck on the sentence, and Dick is enjoying this. But then, his father turns towards him. “And Dick. We will talk about this too. I need you to be able to realize when a case is getting to you, and to be able to ask for help. Understood?” 

Dick nods, eyes low. He disappointed Bruce. His father sighs. “Get some sleep,” he says before leaving the room. 

Jason sighs. “You know he doesn’t mean it like that, right? He’s just sad seeing you sick.” 

Dick buries his head in the pillow. “I know. I don’t want to talk about it. Read to me?”

Jason snorts. “It’s not really the kind of thing to read out loud for falling asleep.” 

Dick hums. “Read anyway.” 

Jason sighs dramatically and starts reading. 

_January 1, 10:54_

When he wakes up again, there’s a redhead in a wheelchair in his room. 

“Hi,” says Barbara when she sees he’s awake. “I finished your case.” 

He slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes and trying to process what had been said. He feels like his brain is still working in slow motion, like his thoughts are trying to swim in a lake of honey.

“What?” he finally croaks. So much for processing. 

“I called Amy Rohrbach, using a voice modifier and presenting myself as Nightwing, to make sure Giles Neivier had been arrested. He had. There was also a story about a Peter Cole, who came to the precinct to confess his implication and testify against Neivier.”

Dick sighs, letting himself fall back on the bed. He coughs a few times and closes his eyes. What an idiot. Peter could put himself in danger doing that. What a brave, selfless idiot. 

“I asked Canary too look after him and do some patrolling in Blüdhaven,” Barbara says, as if she could read his thoughts. Considering her skills and how long they know each other, she probably can. 

“They’re not ever gonna want to have Nightwing again if they have her as a vigilante,” Dick jokes. The criminals will probably be happy when he’s back, actually. Dinah doesn’t pull her punches. Or her screams. 

Barbara doesn’t respond to that. “I also called your job,” she informs, “to tell them that you won’t be able to come for a while. Your coworker is back on her feet and more than willing to cover for you until you feel better.” 

Dick smiles. As he expected, Sylvia isn’t the kind of person to leave a favor unreturned. 

“Everything had been taken care of,” he feels Barbara’s hand through his hairs. “So, I’ll appreciate it if you actually let yourself rest and heal this time.” 

“Look at who is talking,” he says before he can help himself, “as if you never made yourself sick on work.” 

She sighs, “It’s not the same. I’m not on the field.”

He opens his eyes, looks at her. “That doesn’t mean you can stop taking care of yourself.” 

She holds his gaze for a minute before giving up. “Alright. As a new year resolution, I’ll try to be careful with my sleep schedule and rest when I need to, if you promise to do the same. Do we have a deal?” 

Dick sits up again. “We have a deal. Starting today. Take the day off, stay with us. I missed you.” 

She laughs, “well, who’s fault is that? We would talk more often if you didn’t come back from patrol in the early hours of the morning.” 

She starts moving toward the door. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake, get ready, maybe get Alfred to check you up, and join us downstairs. I probably have enough blackmail on Jason to have him stay for a movies and games day.” 

Dick groans. “I own him ten bucks. To Tim, too.”

Barbara laughs again as she leaves the room. Dick almost doesn’t hear the whispered, “I missed you too, Boy-Wonder.” 

Almost. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story! Huge thanks to Justjellyjackal for the beta-reading!


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